


Natural Disaster

by bluths



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluths/pseuds/bluths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had enough of the teasing and tormenting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Disaster

Harry had bad days just like any other boy his age. The boys would just laugh at him and say he was “Harry Fucking Styles” and he had nothing in the world to be ashamed of. Harry’s cheeks would just flush a deep shade of red and he’d shrug off their petty compliments. They were just as about as fake as you could get. So upon discovering the, what seemed to be, millionth zit on his face Thursday morning he about threw a fit. He was a teenager, but he was also a man. He was ready for the acne and the mood swings to be done with. He’d already gone through his baby fat stage, where he was cute and charming. But now he had a reputation. He was brooding and cheeky. He was mysterious and cunning and he loved being those things. He had no idea how he was going to achieve looking like any of those things when he was walking around looking like a pizza.

And it should have come as no surprise that Louis was the first to notice.

“Harry, you know, the other day I saw an ad on the television. For that proactiv shit or whatever. You should really get on that,” Louis mocked.

“Ha ha,” Harry replied sardonically. “It’s just been a rough week.”

“It’s been a rough week for all of us,” Louis waved him off. “But as you can see, my face doesn’t look like a connect 4 board.”

Harry tried not to cry, he tried not to show how much these things hurt. He never wanted to be that person that ever really cared. His mother had taught him that people would talk about you your whole life. You just had to find the person worth really listening to. And then he realized that was total bullshit because Louis  _was_  worth listening to. Well, most of the time.

The truth was, Louis meant a lot to Harry. His opinions mattered when no one else’s could. If the majority liked something and Louis disliked it Harry would change it immediately. And Louis liked having this control, it was his favorite thing. And Harry knew that Louis could tell that Harry was hopelessly in love with him. It was almost painfully obvious, even.

But Louis always had to push him, “Harry, I’m not sure about your fringe. I think it’s time to put the beanie back on, love.”

Another time he strolled up to Harry and pinched the side of Harry’s stomach between his thumb and pointer finger, “Someone’s been having too many Big Macs.”

And it was little comments like that. Those were the ones that would really get Harry going. He’d get a haircut. He’d work out more and get his tone back. Louis liked someone with tattoos, he got tattoos.

“Mate, a week ago you didn’t even  _like_  tattoos,” Zayn practically raced to keep up with Harry as they sped down the sidewalk to the tattoo parlor.

“Look, I’m 18 now. I can do whatever I want,” Harry snapped. “Are you gonna do this with me or not?”

“Well, I,” Zayn was shocked. “I told you I would-“

“Good, then stop talking and let’s do it,” Harry said firmly.

Louis ran his fingers over it as they lay together in his bed on the tour bus. The comforting sounds of their sleeping bandmates around them. Harry winced at the touch and Louis kissed him on the nose to make up for it.

“Does it hurt badly, Haz?”

“A bit,” Harry murmured.

It actually hurt more than he could even stand to admit.

And it was practically exhausting how Louis could go from being so sweet to so cruel. The very next day he was teasing Harry over his acne. Telling him how he should be the next spokesperson for an acne wash. It was almost like Louis didn’t even want to admit what they did together alone.

“I’ve never had sex before,” Harry confessed to Louis nervously one evening.

“I can’t imagine why,” Louis teased.

Harry flushed, “I’ve just never found the right person…”

Louis grinned, “Is that person me?”

Harry pressed a tender kiss to his lips, “Yes.”

And a few nights later it had begun. Harry was scared to let Louis actually go all the way at first. No amount of lube or sweet talk could coax him to let Louis actually fuck him. Louis told him he would make it special, sweet. Something that Harry would never forget. And Harry had to hand it to him. He never did forget it. His tongue was perfect. Rolling around and around the tip of his cock, not allowing him to come, but allowing him to just  _feel_.

Louis’ whole skin was soft. Harry ran his hands all over the skin on Louis’ back, groaning into his ear with each thrust. And it had hurt at first, even worse pain than the tattoo. But after a while the pain was taken over by pleasure and Harry had to focus on just keeping his voice down. Louis was relentless, fingers grinding into Harry’s hips. He ran his tongue along Harry’s jawline and teased him, palming his cock. Just barely, enough to get a reaction, but enough to make him want more. And that’s exactly what Harry wanted. He wanted more.  _More more more._  He wrapped his legs around Louis and he almost blacked out at the height of his climax.

Louis came with him, he felt hot and sticky. Harry felt full. He had never felt so full at once, both in a physical and emotional sense. He pushed back Louis’ hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Louis grinned down at Harry and the mess he had made. Harry smiled back at him and whispered how it was just for him, how all he wanted was him. And it almost killed him because all Louis said was “I know.”

And before Harry could even process words to say Louis was out of his bunk and back to his own within seconds. Thanking Harry for the great night. Harry lay there, naked and trembling. He winced as he pressed his fingers to his tender hips. Louis had left a mark on him but he couldn’t reciprocate. He felt useless and needy. He was just so embarrassed.

And Harry refused to speak to him again. Louis laughed it off and just said Harry was being a twat because he couldn’t grow proper facial hair. The rest of the boys just shrugged it off as Harry being moody and hoped he’d be alright. But the truth was, Harry wasn’t alright. He had given himself to Louis in the most intimate and special way you could and he just left him there. He knew that Louis had plenty of lovers and he didn’t really  _need_  Harry. Which was sort of why it made this even worse.

“Harry, the lads and I are going out to dinner,” Louis peeked his head inside the door leading to their bunks. “You gonna come with us?”

Harry was lying on his stomach his head buried in the pillow and he tried to suck it up just enough to mutter, “Go away.”

Louis laughed, “Come on, Haz, don’t be like that. We’re all just fucking around. We don’t mean any-“

“I said go away,” Harry retorted a bit more firmly.

Louis pursed his lips and shrugged, “Suit yourself then.”

And it hurt Harry that even when he was in  _need_  of Louis and Louis knew that, he still didn’t care. He wanted to take Louis by the shoulders and shake him. This wasn’t the first time Louis had left him hanging. But it would certainly be the last.

“Harry, really, are you okay?” Louis checked on him again, like all the boys had, for about the tenth time now.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry sighed. “I’m fine. I’m just really tired.”

“Was it something I said?” Louis sat down on the bed beside him.

“No,” Harry lied.

“Come on Harry,” Louis rubbed the small of his back. “You can tell me anything.”

“Please, Lou, leave me alone. I really don’t want to see you right now,” Harry pleaded feebly.

“Is it because of what I said?” Louis snapped at him. “For God’s sakes Harry, I’m just messing around.”

“It’s not funny,” Harry retorted quickly. “I’m not fucking laughing.”

“You should’ve-“

“Said something? I tried.  But once you’re on a roll you don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. You always have to be the funniest, the cheekiest, the leader. But I’m  _sick_  of it. I gave you my virginity last night, and you didn’t even care? It was almost like none of that even mattered for you.”

“Harry, it did,” Louis reached out to touch him.

“You just left,” Harry was practically shrill. “Like it didn’t mean a damn thing. Like I was just another notch in the bedpost.”

“You’re more than that,” Louis replied soothingly. “I mean it.”

“I’m just so done with you, Louis,” Harry spat. “I can’t have you jerking e around like this anymore. I don’t need this. I’m better than this. I’m better than  _you_.”

And just when Louis could make Harry feel beautiful and special, he could make him feel so miniscule and irrelevant. He wrapped his arms around himself and cried himself to sleep. The tears poured out of his eyes faster than he could blink them away. His lips chapped, his body ridden with acne, and his fly-away hair worse than the day before-he truly felt ugly. 

 


End file.
